A toxicated person is someone who betrays you,puts you in a bad mood,isn't being worth being your friend and after all they have done they apologize and act like nothing happened

Don't be his friend again he's toxicated.

There's a great owl
outside
my closed window,
hooting
to the rhythm
of air conditioners
kicking on and off.
It's melody seems askewed,
as if it's toxicated
on the technology
of finely tuned thermostats,
seemingly
out of whack.
And when I think
about those places without
controlled climates,
I wonder if the songbirds there
sound better than a drunken
bird of prey here.

I hate the dark cedar behind the feral wood;
They are too wild for me, and bitter as injustice.
My Nikolaas is perhaps lost behind them;
He was stranded when he played with madness.

My Nikolaas was heavily tossed aside,
And his feelings for me were maliciously murdered.
But my dreams of him remain infantile and sophisticated;
I dream of him too much and in a servile way.

I am toxicated by this love and peril;
I have been shot and shall tremble at my own feet;
I have been seeing these dreams, by my own will;
I have been treating them with sober grins and wit.

Where is but my prince, my dazzling, moronic prince;
Who lived and laughed at me on that very day,
When clouds were storms in a magnified piece;
When moons were stars who fought for their own sunlight.

Where is but my love, my dark darling, my cold devil;
Whose jokes are better than satire;
Whose breath is tainted with my young love;
Whose love echoes so sweetly in my ears.

I remember Nikolaas but five years back;
He was a naive gloss behind my working back,
Whom I fell in love with as a distant college girl,
I was enveloped by the sunny roads of Jakarta.

I remember him as the regal prince,
Who liked to sing and laugh and sing again,
Until the night cast its fair but essential spells,
And the heavenly noon turned as dark as hell.

Nikolaas, our benign and heart-shaped darling,
Whom the demons loved to ask to sing,
Who unstintingly captured my heart,
And almost married it in a heat of delight.

Nikolaas, whom to my heart is but superabundant,
The glorious witch I fell in love with,
When I was but young and rough and discourteous,
But still magnificent to me--with his naughty and obsessive colours.

Come into the garden, my love,
For the black bat, Winter, has flown;
Come into the garden, now,
Because those infuriated shapes
Have left me alone.

Come into the garden, Nikolaas;
Because I am here at the gate alone;
Come into the garden, now;
For the breeze is high, and so is my planet of love.

And that wind of our morning moves
Is now beginning to turn into a bed of daffodils
Which shall blow away with its tender green leaf;
Once the earth is angry with its deaf clouds.

And for thee, this winter is fainting and being scared away
And I want to faint in thy sumptuous light
Because I want to die in a dream that you love;
To faint in the round light you love, and die.

While the sky is too rich and too opulent;
But I cannot find a heart as focal as thine;
Too risky and untidy and might yet be gone;
Too cherished and haughty every single day, unlike mine.

I said to the lily, "There might be one
With whom he has heart to be gay.
When will the dancers leave her alone?
He is weary of masked dance and play."

The lily told me but never to worry;
For my Nikolaas does not have but his own story;
His story is untold and it is with me;
I am the one who knows all his poetry.

But the brief night is always with wine;
And cigars and sins that come with it;
I hate the wonders and scent of plain vinegar;
I feel unfair when my Nikolaas touches it.

And the soul of the rose went into my blood;
As the music wore off in the hall;
It was the end of my merry villonaude;
The one I had prepared for this lonesome yule.

And the boughs of roses I had firmly kept;
Were now no longer scented with his sweat;
He was no more of the awesome lad;
He was not real this time, like ever before.

And long by the painted garden I stood,
For I heard his rivulets fall
And his fantastic voice and manly music
That are but too dearer than all.

But the garden is perhaps no more;
Soaked into the screaming of his nymphet blood;
Scraped by his failed roses and charisma;
That which were calm no more, nor dramatic any more.

But in those green lands his walks have left so sweet
That whenever the sombre wind sighs
It shall but be swept away by his own wings,
And die a languorous death, in a funny cause.

And in the meadow, Nikolaas is the sweetest
That none can guard nor tear
The fine prints of his blue eyes,
For he is not all else's but mine,
The one I long to feel
Between my loving heart and mind.

And I shall print thy name in the acacias of summers,
They will lead my love to thine,
And to the wooden hollows in which we met
And into the unopened valleys of Paradise.

Come hither, Nikolaas, for the dances are done;
And so these longings shall wither away;
I would like to tether thee to my sky once more;
And replace thy broken violin with the sun.

And I shall sit in the throne with thee;
In gloss of satin and clear glimmer of pearls;
By boughs of violets and undying peaches;
By the sea of those little heads that bow.

I shall be thy flower and thy sun,
And wed myself to thee in yon ****** bed;
My heart will wait for thee and write,
The best hymn and lyrics for our sweetest night.

He is coming, my own, my sweet;
With his own proud air and lavish tread;
My heart will but hear him and beat;
And blossom widely in purple and red.

With smug delight have I loved thee;
With pride, with confidence.
With joy, with finery;
With hope, with a coincidence.

With tears have I wanted;
With feelings have I failed.
I was too young to have a wit;
To fall in love, from my shell.

Thou, strained outside the brook;
With glittery eyes glancing past;
Meeting mine, drawn to look;
Kneeling on the green grass.

Sensing me, my young fabric;
And the perfume of my love,
I was strong, yet too weak;
My love was keen and lunatic.

I grew awake at midnight hours;
But not that my heart ever slept,
Nearing to me, my quiet slumbers;
Thou came by to sit, and wept.

I grew idyllic, and sang;
Then thy voice rang through
The hot night, and sprang
On to my silent summer hue.

I looked at thee, and stumbled
Upon my own lulled, mumbling words;
How couldst a soul be so humbled
Amongst the busied human worlds?

I was the Mermaid; that was all
Nobody came to me but at nightfall;
But how couldst they be charmed by me?
The ivy thought, my name was awry

Inhuman, toxicated, amiss;
Never wouldst I deserve a kiss,
Not even one on my behalf;
I learned to love just behind the walls.

Those of the lake, before thou came;
And the grand of thine appeared in time,
For thee, that I wouldst feel the same;
Thou saw me through, called out my name.

Those of the water, as I had tasted;
With lilies and rosebuds to my right,
Oft’ at night, I swam to the surface
To the hauntingly fierce nights.

Love sounded sordid, that I knew;
I didst not believe it all anew,
Myths had it that thou wouldst not see—
Nor hear, nor hold any faith in me.

Love sounded true, in the heavens;
The human realms I imagined,
Not that of my brethren,
Not the one that I had seen.

Tales had it that thou could see;
For it wouldst be too much disgust,
To watch my deserted land, to be
In a love that wouldst not last.

But thou caught me in that lilac stream;
A stream filled with young lavenders,
And their naked, infatuated dreams,
West to my natural heavens, ever.

But thou didst, that thou listened;
Within my fears, thy eyes glistened,
And I couldst locate but the scars—
Those remnants pottering thy hearts.

That I wouldst dearly heal, my love;
An injury that had been buried;
The dismembered once enough;
The despaired of a heartbeat.

That I wouldst listen, as thou spoke;
To cure the devils of all shock;
To return thy heart to what should be;
To stir thy love just for me.

What if my hours pierced the night;
And injured me again tonight;
Wouldst thou be my lover still,
Be a danger to what I feel.

What if my lungs felt thy voice;
To send thee to a stern standstill;
From this cursed being, and heal;
To forget me, back in human bliss.

What if I console, and thou refuse;
What if thy world without my poems,
What is my chorus, is it of use?
What is the melody of my doom?

What if I dance to unborn stars,
What if I wished to heal thy scars,
What if we battled in all wars,
What if we loved with all our hearts?

And thou, lamenting there every night;
Listening to me ‘till sunlight;
And flew away on summer mornings;
To retreat more, on beloved evenings.

And thou, being the hymn of all roses;
The moss, the found, the lost;
Thou read to me, on those hot days;
Thou heard my words close, every day.

The stubborn dose of blue eyes;
Bewitching to the counting skies;
Resembling all my lonely nights,
Burning the wrong, turning all right;

That handful of red lips;
Scratching at my beds of tulips;
Like the scorching gloss of sunset;
Red but defined, just mad.

That hand, that flesh, those cheeks;
Mine in my mind and all those weeks;
My human friend, my love
Having him was solitude enough.

That kiss, that warmth, were fluid;
I had plenty of them, my sweet;
He smelled like the moon, my prince—
He was mine, he had been.

The lightning ruined it for me;
On a day of summer sunshine;
Clawing into the pure skyline,
Making all too broken to see.

The sun made its way, and killed
My shielding of all was displaced;
She struck the birch trees on the hill;
“T’is is not over,” she said.

She moved to the lake, and all—
Ran as waters moved on to fall;
Then she startled my lover, lazing
On my lap, flirting and singing.

And I heard his scream, his death
Approaching him from gurgling earth;
The sun prodded his life, his breath
Shrinking him into frosted dirt;

The sun shrieked in jubilance;
Enraging my disgusted stance;
Laying my lover’s tossed head;
I squeezed and whined, hoping for death;

A few hours passed, the sun won
Flocking to welcome dawn again;
The night watched dead, with air torn
Leaving me spread in passing pain.

Five minutes passed; the dawning air
A guiltless foul, but naïve and fair
Carrying her rose in a dead odour;
With a stained presence, emptied colour.

I was wicked, I was angered;
I rose from busted land, and water;
Dragging along my pointed soul
I stood unfazed; perched in the cold.

I clicked my fingers and opened blood;
Then dawn bled from its heart;
The wound, piercing its sonorous veins
Watching her out and about in pain.

I rubbed my palms, and thick streams
Shot at the sun’s paled surface;
I killed in arrays of white dreams,
I destroyed in horror, in haste.

I touched the ground, and strokes of mud
Launch their ways to the skies, out loud;
Washing all brown earth off summers,
And all its threats and sworn powers;

Around my arms were they;
Those humans, having none to say,
But to run, to their human lovers;
They couldst—and wouldst be together.

My immense rage bottled me,
And I ended those lovers to be;
Leaving the cold universe to my own
And my bloodied moors, my lake alone;

And I was there, that death passed by;
A curse that wouldst see me lie—
By the raised legend of the sky,
That I couldst **** then I wouldst die.

And I was there, that he came round;
My dying body that he found;
In a gone soul, a friction;
An oval ghost, an apparition.

And I lay there, with him;
Welcoming death to our dreams;
And our lips, in thrumming kisses;
By our dead hearts, dead impulses.

And I lay there, by his side;
Basking in the life of the night;
Blending our arts, our idyll—
Celebrating what we couldst feel.

And I slept there, with my whole;
I didst not feel all that was cold;
Running my hand through his bronze hair
All of a sudden; all felt fair.

And I lived there, with my love;
He was ever my spirit and laugh,
He was ever my sweet, my loving;
He was to me my everything.

Started as a sun
Lighting rays that acts upon
But like a day with 6:00 ending
World will turn away without changing

Urging inside the core
Can't be stop like a bore
The flowing pain will feel like forever
Same with the blood that seems to be clever

Escaping the reality
Hallucinations that will linger within
The mind full of random thoughts
Toxicated with drug-like hoax

sometimes i wish on a star that never shot through the sky.
sometimes i wish i’d die..
other times i love life.
i am crazy..
no one can help no one dares to get close to me.
it’s too dangerous they say
as if i’d bite them feed on their insides until
they whisper their goodbyes.
i cant even think straight half of the time filled with toxicated poison
i wouldn't hurt them i'm not like him.
he hurt me until my insides were flipped.
until i was making things up in my head that i thought were true.
id whisper things in people's ears that they didn't understand..
they’d look at me as if i were a piece of fresh meat.
i was.
until they beat me rotted me out.
now im dead.
cold as a stone that hasn't been touched in decades.
im hurt.
and alone.

In the car from the street to a dirt road
The street leveled and calm more common
while the man made roads uneven and narrow
Speeding up a steep hill not sure it the top is leveled
The fear seape through the pores
So many scary thoughts racing in my mind
Going to the top the car losing traction
Not sure what's on the other side over a cliff
The tires kicking up dirt while a dust cloud follows
My heart gets a rush from the adrenaline
Hand holds onto the hand rail for dear life
Another steep drop overcome the fear
Cousin drives while I sit shotgun testing his vehicle against mother nature
watching the road up ahead being extra eyes
All new and fun another experience to enjoy
I toxicated by the thrill seeking adventure
Overdosed being an adrenaline ******
Nice change in routine something exciting and different for a change

As dusk makes it’s downfall
My body shivers, toxicated soul
How do we grow? Lost boy playing with time. Running backwards chasing clouds.

Here we never found our lives, confused in another world. No one knows, no one knows.

Are we still lost? Soaring in my dreams making it a fantacy. Where do we go? Chasing clouds.

Lying shut eye, running minds.
Blindness comes to close. loosing, loosing, lost.
Where did we go?

Chasing clouds, chasing clouds…lalalah….lalalah…hmmmhmmmm